Counting the Cost
by Cyny
Summary: Harry, Hermione, and Ron learn about paying the price for their dreams. A vignette about one possible ending to the war against Voldemort. Can you win and still lose? *New and improved ending!*


AN – I realized, thanks to my FOUR REVIEWERS that the end to this was a little, shall we say unclear?  By the way, I love you four reviewers, and thanks.  I tried to revamp the last part, so if you're looking at this for a second time, give it another read and tell me what you think.  That's called a *cough* review *cough* Seriously though, please.  I don't even care if you use complete sentences.  ("Good.  Understand."  "Bellllch." "Muuummmmmg."  "Ah, und – und.  Yeah.") Like.

-Carlyn

~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^

She stood alone.  

_Sometimes where you are most alone is where you are not alone at all_.  Who said that?  Dumbledore, she was sure but when and why were lost to her.  Still she _was_ very much by herself unless the trees of the great forest or the waves of the lake were to be counted as companions.  

This had to be the most beautiful place at Hogwarts.  Hermione was nearly positive that only the three of them had known about it.  Perched on a high, narrow cliff on the east side of the lake, the buildings of Hogsmeade on her left looked like a toy village she might have owned as a little girl.  To her right, the castle seemed dwarfed by the distance.  Being here made everything seem so _small_.  The great expanse of the lake spread out below her always gave her the impression that everything else was insignificant.

_It's easy to overlook the details when you're too concerned with the big picture.  Who would think to stop and wonder what the view is like from a little cliff with just a tree on one side and a sheer wall on the other when you're hurrying back to school, thinking about not being late for dinner because you're famished or what you're going to do about those last three inches of your History of Magic essay?  But, but look!  Just look!  Life is in the details, Hermione._

She'd laughed at his words then; indeed, they still brought a smile to her face.  His green eyes sparkling with the thrill of discovery and the excitement of having someone to share it with.  Cheeks flushed with exertion, having run almost the entire way from the castle.  Hand still holding hers.  It was amazing how clearly those moments remained in her mind.  

Life is in the details.  Not in the goings and the comings but the feelings and the emotions.  In the way Harry'd looked bursting with joy about some silly cliff on the lake.  In her skepticism, in her gasp of surprise, in her awe.  She had been so amused with Harry waxing poetic, or waxing Dumbledore, or perhaps both.  It had only taken one good look to gain understanding. 

"Understanding…  Life is in the details.  Understanding comes at a price," she reminded herself aloud.  Another Harry-ism.  He had been full of them the past year, so much so that she wondered if Dumbledore had written a book she didn't know about.  But they were purely Harry, and as the events of the year began to unfold, she discovered that they were meant as a way for him to try to explain, to help them… at moments like this one.  

As they'd traveled farther and farther down the path of no return, the trio spent increasing amounts of time on "their" cliff.  At first they'd tried to pretend, talking about Quidditch or the terribly boring time History of Magic had been or whether they would _ever _learn the new transfiguration.  Gradually they became more open – more frank – to the point where they did not even begin with general courtesies; they just jumped into their worries and thoughts and fears.  

Harry had feared the most.  In a way, he knew the price would be steep.  He feared the worst.

The worst had happened.

_Everything has a cost.  We must pay for freedom, for life without fear.  Sometimes it's hard to understand why something costs so much.  It takes time to understand, and there's a price on that too._

That was the last thing said on their last night together.  No, not quite.  _It's getting worse… my scar,_ followed by _I love you both_ before he turned back to the lake and she and Ron returned to the castle in silence.

It happened the next day.  Three months ago.  It might as well have been yesterday or an hour or two seconds.

Swallowing hard against threatened tears, Hermione turned to the tree.  To the stone.  She traced its smooth top with her hand absentmindedly as she stared at the water, just beginning to turn orange in the early evening light.

"I-I… I _miss_ you," she choked.  Overcome by a deluge of deep pain and grief, she crumpled onto the grass, wrapping her arms around the gravestone and pressing her face into the carved image of the Gryffindor lion above his name.  She shook with sobs until she was breathless and sore.  Slowly, as she quieted, she released him.  This _representation _of him.  Never the real person.  Not anymore.

Suddenly she felt it.  The hairs on the back of her neck stood on end as a shiver rose up through her.  She was being watched.  Slowly, she turned.

His hand had been just about to rest on her shoulder.  She turned her tearstained face to his.  He dropped his hand to his side, watching her with concern and pity and looking like he wanted to take her into his arms.

"I thought I'd never want to come back here, but I found out I couldn't stay away."

"Strange, isn't it?"  He cocked a characteristic grin at her, one she couldn't help but return.  While his smile, flaming hair, and freckles still gave him an air of boyish charm, Hermione noticed that his eyes looked tired and sad and deep.  They aged him greatly.  He turned away from her as if he could read her mind.

"It cost us all something, victory," he murmured, looking at the headstone.

"Paying is never easy…" Hermione began, but she forgot the end.

His eyes held hers. "But it must be done.  If this dream didn't cost us anything, it wouldn't be worth what will be asked of us."

"I didn't realize-"

"We didn't see it, Hermione, but Harry did.  He was preparing us to understand what we had to do.  What _you_ have to do right now.  Do you understand him yet?"

She did not answer.

"You do understand.  You do.  Hermione, you have to…say it."

"I can't say goodbye, Ron.  I can't.  I can't."  Her voice fell to a whisper.

"Look in your heart.  That's why you came.  Please don't leave before… before you do."  His eyes were tortured, as if he could have no rest until she said the words.  "Harry always said that life was in the details, but you can't get stuck on one detail and forget to live.  I'll put it in Ronnish for you.  Always remember the price, but never forget what it bought."  He smiled down at her, and while she wanted to thank him to hug him to say anything to _move_ for crying out loud, she merely sat frozen as if in a full body bind.

Ron's smile slowly fell.  He moved as if to touch her, but stopped short.  "I love you, you know.  Never forget that, okay?"  His grin jumped back onto his face for a moment before he turned and walked away.

Hermione was suddenly torn between chasing him down and staying, grasping to a few more moments of denial that the end had come.  

One for the world.  A price, an incredible price.   

 Hermione traced his name with her finger over and over, inscribing the words in her memory of the lake, the castle, the town, and wonderful years together.  She heard his voice echoing in her mind; her fingers never broke the connection with the letters.  _As if we could ever forget our best friend._

Even as she thought it, Hermione knew that the touch was not for memory but for aid in saying what she knew must be said.

"We'll never forget you," she whispered to the grave.  To _him_.  

At last, she felt the words in her heart.  She was ready.

Hermione gently pressed her lips to his name, and as she pulled away the words escaped in a soft breath.

 "Goodbye, Ron."


End file.
